


You're My World

by foggys_cupcake_girl



Category: The Lobster (2015), The Perks of Being a Wallflower (2012)
Genre: (not graphic but childbirth nonetheless), All the cuddles, Alpha Patrick, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Angst, Angst and Feels, Childbirth, Cuddles, Emotional Roller Coaster, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mpreg, Omega David, Patrick is a very very good boyfriend, Pregnancy, Self-Esteem Issues, Soul Bond, Soulmates, They are so soft for each other, because David deserves them, because David needs a hug poor bby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-17 05:14:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29094822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foggys_cupcake_girl/pseuds/foggys_cupcake_girl
Summary: As the due date for the baby draws nearer, Patrick's concern for his omega kicks into overdrive...and when David finally opens up to him, Patrick is crushed to finally discover the reasons why David fears abandonment even after five years together.(This is set in the same 'verse as "What if your hand was my hand" and "Anything For You.")
Relationships: David (The Lobster)/Patrick (Perks of Being a Wallflower)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 9





	You're My World

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all ^_^ I just can't stay away from my precious lobsterperks bbys <3 <3
> 
> This one does include some (not super graphic) descriptions of childbirth, as well as more of the more emotionally-disturbing symptoms of pregnancy (anxiety exacerbation, nightmares, etc). If that will be an issue, proceed with caution <3

Three weeks out from David’s due date, insomnia has set in. Patrick is so exhausted he’s having trouble getting his programs done for work. But he willingly stays up with David every night, as much as he can. 

He does try, though, to get as much of his work done before the baby is born as possible, even though it’s certainly far from his best. His boss understands, luckily. _Your omega is worth more than your job,_ she tells Patrick when he apologizes for being late with a program for the fifth time, and assigns most of his work to other people. _Just do what you can. We know you’ll be back at full strength when your family life is a little more stable._

(Patrick is immensely grateful, of course. But he does feel bad for the junior programmers who have all his work now. He’s not naive; he knows how lucky he is. Married alphas have the highest seniority, not just at work but in general.)

Anyway. Insomnia. Patrick is pretty sure the last time either of them got a full night’s sleep was month seven. David has a hard time falling asleep already, but it doesn’t help at all that when he does sleep he often jolts awake from nightmares, none of which he ever wants to talk about. His back and legs hurt all the time now, and the mild painkillers that are safe for the baby barely make a dent in it anymore. His belly is swollen to the point that it’s hard to find a comfortable sleeping position.

And yet, being David, he _still_ never complains.

“I’m all right,” he’ll insist even as tears form in his eyes. “I’m fine, darling. I just need to lie here a while, I’ll be all right, please don’t worry.”

Patrick _is_ worried, he can’t help it. But he does his absolute damndest to make sure David never sees it.

~

Summer nights are the shortest of the year, but this summer they are the longest nights of Patrick’s life.

David is restless and anxious most nights, his inability to sleep causing him more distress than it usually would. When he has nightmares, which is nearly every day now, every time he manages to sleep, he wakes with a sharp gasp and instinctively reaches under his pillow for a weapon that isn’t there. The third time this happens, Patrick goes to the dollar store and buys an off-brand Nerf gun with foam darts, assuming if David thinks he’s an assailant at least this won’t hurt him, and puts it under his pillow.

That night, an hour after Patrick has finally gotten him to sleep, David wakes with a pained cry. Before Patrick can say anything he finds himself laced tightly to David’s side, while an invisible attacker is held at Nerf gun-point. “Hey, hey,” Patrick says, sitting up halfway and gently pushing David’s arm until he lowers the plastic gun. “It’s okay. No one’s there, honey. We’re safe.”

David rolls over (no small feat considering the size of his belly) and presses his face into Patrick’s shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, sounding deeply, painfully exhausted. “I don’t know what I was thinking, of course there’s no one there.”

“It’s okay, honey. Sh-h-h. You don’t have to be scared. I’m here.” Patrick holds him close until he feels David beginning to fidget, to try and get comfortable again. “Easy there…are you hurting again?”

“Yes. Everywhere,” David admits.

“Okay. Want a bath?” The inflatable pool is now a permanent fixture in the living room, because one of the few things that does soothe David’s pain and anxiety is to sit and rest in the water.

“Yes. Cool this time, please?”

“Anything you want.”

Patrick fills the tub with cool water and is about to put in a handful of epsom salt when David asks him if, instead, he could just have Patrick in the tub with him. “I want you close,” he says. “Your touch and your scent make me feel better.”

“Okay, love, if that’s what you want.” Patrick strips down and climbs into the pool with David, it takes a few tries to find a position that works but eventually David is settled between Patrick’s spread legs, his back pressed to Patrick’s chest and his head on his shoulder, both of their hands resting on his round belly.

The baby evidently likes this, because they won’t stop kicking. Patrick giggles a little. “Whoever’s in there is ready to come out.”

“I wish they would. I’m so tired.” David sighs and turns his head into Patrick’s neck. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be ungrateful. I’m glad we’re having a child.”

“Me too, but you’re allowed to complain, you know. You’re scared, you’re tired, you’re in pain. You won’t be a ‘bother’ or whatever if you get upset.” Patrick knows the words are likely going in one ear and out the other, but he has to try. “I love you, David. Your feelings aren’t, like…an _inconvenience,_ okay?”

David nods slowly and processes that for a while. Slowly, the cool water works its magic and Patrick feels David begin to go slack in his arms. His breathing evens out, he fidgets less, the heated flush is drawn from his skin. Patrick holds him close and occasionally whispers _I’ve got you_ or _there, that’s it_ as he feels David relaxing against him.

He doesn’t know how long they sit there before David says softly, so suddenly it still nearly makes him jump, “You aren’t the first, you know.”

“The first…what? I’m sorry?”

David is quiet for another long moment before he clarifies, “I’d been in love before I met you. Twice. You aren’t the only person who’s tried to be with me.”

“Tried? David, _I_ _will not leave you._ Ever.” Patrick can’t help but feel alarmed; doesn’t David know that bonds are permanent, that Patrick couldn’t leave if he tried? “You’re my bondmate, you’re carrying my child—and _I love you,_ like, more than _anything_ in the world. So…yeah. I’m not going to leave you, okay?”

David falls silent again, reflecting, and Patrick waits him out, knows David will only talk if he feels like it. Finally David sighs and goes on, “I was married. To a girl. A beta.” He’s quiet again for a beat, and then he says, “We conceived. I wanted to keep the child, she didn’t. She told me if we terminated the pregnancy she wouldn’t leave me…”

He falls silent, presses his face into Patrick’s neck. Patrick can fill in the blanks for himself, though, and for a moment his alpha instinct rears up, the desire to murder a woman he’s never met roaring through his bloodstream like a drug. “She left anyway,” he concludes.

In Ireland, where David is from, this is a huge, _huge_ deal. It’s illegal to be an unpartnered omega there once you reach a certain age, and if your mate leaves, it’s not them who’s failed, it’s _you._ There are camps, places framed as helpful institutions for lost omegas, that are really facilities for punishment. Only about half of the omegas who go in there, come out.

“She did.” David is quiet for another long, painful moment, and then he goes on, sounding as if he’s trying not to cry, “So, you know where they sent me. The first person I tried to match with killed my brother. Kicked him to death. When she saw that I was crying, grieving for him, she tried to kill me too.”

Patrick suppresses a shudder and holds his mate a little tighter. “I’m so sorry. Is she—” His throat almost closes. He doesn’t want to ask. “Is she who you—dream about?”

“No. Well, sometimes. Sometimes I’ll see her kicking you,” David begins, and then with a little shiver he presses his face deeper into the crook of Patrick’s neck. “I don’t want to talk about her.”

“Sh-h-h, okay honey. It’s okay. You don’t have to,” Patrick assures him, one hand tenderly stroking the baby bump. The baby has calmed down now, as if they can somehow sense how important this conversation is.

Because, God, it _is_ important. David has told Patrick virtually nothing about his life before he came to America. And now Patrick feels sick to his stomach as he understands why.

David takes a moment to compose himself before he continues, with a very un-David-like quiver in his voice, “So I ran away, joined a feral pack in the woods. Well. They called us feral. Really we just were trying to survive. And there was someone…I never would have known she was an alpha if her pheremones hadn’t hit me the way they did…but I instantly fell in love with her. There was a rule against mating in our pack, and when the leader found out, she blinded Rachel as a punishment.”

“What the actual _fuck—”_

“Our mating culture in my home country relies on commonality,” David says, as if that explains everything. “We make matches based on our defining traits. Rachel and I were both nearsighted. Our leader blinded her to break us up.” He sighs heavily, while Patrick sits there reeling. “We ran away, but she insisted we could only be together if I were blind too, so I tried to blind myself…”

He trails off again. Patrick has to swallow a good three or four times and count to ten in his head before he can say, without throwing up or screaming, “But you didn’t do that, obviously.”

“I tried. But I couldn’t. I’d felt enough pain, couldn’t bear to take more.” David turns to his side a little so he can sling an arm around Patrick’s thigh, as if to keep him from getting away. “I lied to her for a while. Not the best thing I could have done, but I was in love. We bonded one night. I thought it was all right then, and told her the truth, and she…she…”

Patrick thinks he might actually throw up now, deep breaths or no. “She left you?” he whispers, horrified.

David is tense again, achingly silent in his arms, and Patrick has to fight the urge to scream. He wants, again, to rage. To howl. To find this woman, whoever and wherever she is, and tear her to shreds with his bare hands.

Bonds are meant to be for life. Alphas are hardwired by nature to never leave their bondmate once they’ve been bonded. This girl, whoever she was, must have been either the most heartless person alive, or devastated beyond all possible measure to learn that David had lied to her (but, Patrick thinks angrily, if it’s the second, she brought that on her fucking self when she asked him to _blind himself for her,_ Jesus _Christ)._ Either way, she must be made of steel to be able to fight her alpha instinct and walk away from him.

But David. Oh God. _David._ Omegas become dependent on their alphas once a bond is formed. He must have been in the worst pain of his life when she left him, both physical and emotional: Patrick has heard of cases where omegas literally died of broken-heart syndrome after their alphas severed the bond.

Well. After that, Patrick realizes, pregnancy must not be so bad after all. Amidst the rage and sadness on behalf of David he also realizes that even as much as he loves him, Patrick has definitely not given David enough credit. To survive all of that, he must be one of the toughest men to ever live.

“I’m so sorry, angel,” he murmurs, one hand stroking up and down David’s trembling shoulder while he presses gentle kisses to his mate’s face. “God, what I wouldn’t give for you to have never been hurt like that.”

David relaxes again, his head tucked delicately into the curve of Patrick’s neck. “I’m all right now. I have you,” he says, as if it’s the simplest and most obvious thing in the world.

And to him it probably is. David, Patrick learned a long time ago, sees things mostly in binary. Either everything’s okay, or it isn’t. Everything he went through happened a long time ago, he’s with Patrick now and he’s pregnant and they’re happy, _ergo_ he is fine. The fact that he obviously is _not fine,_ judging by the nightmares and constant anxiety, does not seem to occur to him.

But now is not the time for Patrick to tell his very pregnant, very vulnerable omega that therapy is a thing he should do. Now all he can do is hold David close and tell him, “Damn right. And I’m _never_ going to leave you. I promise.”

David makes a soft, almost purr-like noise and nuzzles even closer. “She never promised,” he says, and Patrick holds him close, and if there are tears on his face, well. It’s August, it’s hot, he can just pretend he’s sweating.

~

“I’m sorry,” David says a few nights later.

Patrick sets aside his computer. When David wants to talk, he takes advantage of it. “What is it, love?” he asks, assuming he’s about to hear _I’m sorry, but I need…_

They’re in bed, an ancient Hitchcock movie playing on low volume on the TV, David curled up in a blanket nest with one arm out to wrap around Patrick’s legs, Patrick trying to get some small amount of work done even though it’s three AM. He’s exhausted, but he knows David’s not going to sleep before dawn and he has to do something while he’s sitting up with him.

But David just looks at him through pained, liquid eyes and says, “I haven’t been able to do anything for you lately…I’m sorry.”

Patrick scoots down so that they’re lying side-by-side and reaches out to stroke David’s damp hair out of his eyes. David is flushed and sweaty and looks absolutely wretched, the poor thing; his nesting instinct is at odds with the terrible heat. They’ve got every fan going in the camper and the lightest blankets on the bed, but it’s still miserably hot. “Do you need more ice packs?” he asks, his hand resting on David’s uncomfortably warm forehead.

“No. I’m all right.”

“Please stop saying that. You’re _not_ all right, you’re upset about something or you wouldn’t be apologizing. What do you need? Please talk to me,” Patrick urges him.

David goes quiet and avoids Patrick’s eyes for a moment before he finally says, “You’re an alpha in your prime. You must have…needs. But I haven’t done anything for you lately, I’m sorry. I didn’t even think of it until just now.”

Patrick feels like he’s been punched in the solar plexus, like someone has just sucked every ounce of breath from his lungs with a vacuum sealer. Like he’s never going to breathe again. For a moment he thinks he may actually cry. When he’s finally recovered the power of speech, all he can say is, “God, I must be the worst husband ever.”

David looks startled. “No you aren’t. Why would you think that?”

“Because if you think all I want from you is sex, if you think there’s been even one time in the last few months when I’ve thought, _God, if only he could fuck me right now,_ then I’ve definitely failed to show you how much you mean to me. I would do _anything_ for you, do you understand? Going without sex for a couple of months is fucking _nothing._ You’re my _world,_ do you get that?”

David does not look reassured, if anything he looks even more like he might just start crying. “It’s my fault we’re out here in the middle of nowhere, I took you away from your friends, I got you thrown out of your house—”

 _“No._ I did that, because I love you and because you’re worth it.”

“I’m not worth it. You could’ve had a better omega…this might be the only child we ever have…”

“Um, no, there’s no _might_ about it, this is _definitely_ the only child we’ll ever have. If you think I’m ever going to put you through this again you’re crazy.”

David looks taken aback. “You don’t want to try for more?”

“David, _Jesus!_ I almost asked the nurse if it was too late to abort the first time I saw you hooked up to an IV because you couldn’t stop throwing up! God, I just—do you really not have any concern for yourself at all?” Patrick pulls away and sits up, wiping away his tears with a corner of the sheets. “Seriously, do you just not _care_ if you die? Because I do!”

“I’m very sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you,” David says contritely, and Patrick just _breaks._ He can’t do this right now. He can’t. It’s too late and too hot and he hasn’t had more than three hours of sleep at a time for the last six weeks and _he can’t take it anymore._

“I need a minute. I’ll be back,” he says, his voice strained, and he gets up and gathers as much dirty laundry as he can carry and stalks out the door without looking back. He knows if he looks at David right now he will stay, and if he stays, he is all but guaranteed to say something he will regret.

~

The laundry room is hardly the most comforting place to be. It’s badly-lit and stuffy, and smells like gritty chemical detergent and off-brand fabric softener. But it’s quiet and empty, and the white noise of the washer and dryer helps clear Patrick’s head a little…after he’s leaned over the clothes-folding counter and had a good cry.

He’s not angry at David, not really. He’s just frustrated. Because David doesn’t understand, he _never_ understands, that to lose him would break Patrick beyond repair. David somehow manages to defy millions of years of ingrained omegan biology and think of himself as dispensable.

Omegas are usually submissive by nature, willing to allow themselves to be protected by an alpha. But the thing is, omegas aren’t like that because they’re weak or needy—it’s because they’re caring, and gentle, and they know, at the very core of their being, that their alphas can’t live without them.

Patrick thinks of Sam’s omega, Charlie, who is also one of Patrick’s close friends. Charlie, frankly, is a bit like David—gentle, sweet, and self-sacrificing in the extreme, with dark and messy things in his past that occasionally, despite his best efforts, pop out into the light. But Charlie is willing to let Sam protect him, to trust that she can see something in him that he can’t see in himself. Charlie never tells Sam _you don’t have to,_ never apologizes when his history gets in their way and they can’t be intimate. He lets her be a proper _alpha,_ lets her catch him when he falls without any shame about it whatsoever—

Except.

Oh God.

How the hell did it take him almost five years of marriage to realize it?

David’s never _had_ a proper alpha before. Has never had someone truly willing to lay down their life for him, who treated their bond like the sacred thing it’s supposed to be. Didn’t he say as much the other day?

“His alpha _left him,”_ Patrick whispers, suddenly deeply horrified. “Oh God…no _wonder…”_

David doesn’t distrust Patrick. He doesn’t have zero regard for his own life. It’s just that _he doesn’t trust the bond because he’s been hurt before._

He thinks that because Patrick wants a child, he’ll be less likely to leave if David gives him two. He thinks that because Patrick likes sex, he’ll leave if David doesn’t put out for him. He thinks that if he does one thing wrong Patrick will leave, _because everyone else fucking has._

Patrick has to all but tie himself to a chair to prevent himself from leaving before the laundry is finished. He suddenly has the worst craving to be close to his omega, the bond pulling at him the whole time the dryer runs. It’s a distress cry, his own biology screaming at him _go back to him you fucking idiot,_ because now all he can think is that David probably is already packing, probably has sadly resigned himself to being alone. _He thinks you’ve already left, you have to go back, you have to…_

He makes himself to walk calmly back and not run screaming to the trailer. David is curled up on the bed, looking absolutely heartbroken, and Patrick forces his face into a look of easy reassurance before he says brightly, “All right honey, I’m back. Here, I have something for you…” He flips the clothes out of the basket onto the bed and his heart twists a little at both the eager, hopeful look David gives him and the way his pregnant mate reaches out desperately to the laundry, craving the comforting scent of the clean clothes.

Patrick sits there a long time, gently rubbing his mate’s back while David buries himself in the clean laundry and gulps in the scent like it’s his first oxygen in days. “Do we need to talk?” he asks softly when a reasonable few minutes has passed and he feels David relax a little. “I think we do.”

“I’m sorry,” David says immediately.

“Oh, baby. No.” Patrick lays down and spoons David, blanket-nest and all, wrapping his arm carefully around David’s swollen belly. The baby nudges up to meet him and Patrick thinks his heart may well explode. “I just want to make something clear, okay? You don’t have to talk. I know you don’t like to. Just listen, can you do that for me?”

David presses a hand over his and nods. “Okay,” he agrees after a pause.

“Okay. So.” He takes a deep breath. “I really appreciate you telling me what you did a while back about…about the people you knew before me. It had to be hard and I just…” He has to stop and count ten before he can keep going. Everything inside him just _hurts._ “It means the world to me that you trusted me enough to tell me that stuff. Just, um…just please…” He can’t help it, tears are boiling behind his eyes and he knows David won’t judge him for letting them fall.

He feels David struggling in his arms, and before he can say _no, don’t move_ David has turned around as much as he can. He barely makes it onto his back, poor thing, but he makes up by turning his head so he can look at Patrick through panicked eyes. “Are you all right?” he asks, and then cringes in pain.

A sob mixed with a sad laugh escapes. How typical David, Patrick thinks; he’s hurting so much he can barely move, but he’s asking Patrick if he’s okay. The love Patrick feels for this man is just fucking overwhelming and he buries his face in David’s chest, anointing the soft flesh with his tears. “I love you so much,” he barely manages to get out, “that sometimes I think I’m going to just fucking explode, okay? When we first met I—God, David, I couldn’t _breathe_ I wanted you so bad. So please, _please_ try to believe me when I tell you that I will never, _ever,_ in a _million goddamn years,_ leave you.”

He cries. He doesn’t know how long he cries; he’s already dehydrated and his head hurts like it’s about to pop off and he thinks if he tries to inhale one more deep breath his lungs will turn to stone. But he feels better when it’s over because David is holding onto him with one arm, and David is tired and can barely hang on but he does anyway and he whispers _it’s okay, please don’t cry, I’m here, it’s all right_ until Patrick is able to regain some semblance of control.

“I love you,” he tells David when he’s able to breathe. “I love everything about you. I’ll love you no matter how many or how few kids we have, I’ll love you no matter what our sex life looks like, I’ll love you no matter what you ask of me, do you understand?” He sits up and gets on his knees, both hands clasping one of David’s tight. “Please tell me you understand.”

David stares at him for a long moment and then slowly, _very_ slowly, manages a nod. “I don’t mean to cause any alarm,” he says after a long pause, “but I think the baby is coming.”

Patrick looks down and gasps in mingled shock and anticipation: a wet, dark patch is slowly spreading across the sheets. “Oh,” he breathes, and then, “oh _fuck,”_ because he was not ready for this to happen tonight, but…

Well. It’s go time.

~

Eight hours later, Patrick knows why they call it _labor._

His knees are numb from kneeling so long, hands mottled deep-red and stark-white from how tightly David gripped them during contractions. Their midwife, a perky little thing named Allison, is officially his new hero, because at the first sight of blood he would have devolved into a screaming panic attack had she not been there to brightly announce, _oh, look at that, we have bloody show, that’s good! Baby should be here any time now!_

He knows for sure now that he never wants another child, because if watching David go through morning sickness was terrible, seeing him through delivery was excruciating. Quiet, sweet David only lasted so long before the pain took over and the screaming started. Between contractions he would fall quiet again, whimpering, his hands weakly grasping for Patrick as he quietly begged _can’t you make it stop, sweetheart, please?_ Pushing…well, the less said about that the better; that was when he almost broke Patrick’s hands, gripping tight as his body struggled to get the baby to come out.

Now David looks terrible, so exhausted he can barely hold his head up, his entire upper body drenched in sweat, his lower body obscured by clouds of blood in the water. But a tiny little wrinkly thing wrapped in a little gray blanket lies with their head tucked neatly under his chin, and he’s too tired to say anything but a tiny smile is just teasing at the corners of his mouth.

Patrick leans forward and kisses them both, first his strong, perfect omega and then their tiny little offspring. “I love you both,” he murmurs, overcome with so much emotion and exhaustion he’s not sure what else there is he can say. “I love you so much.”

David can barely manage to raise his eyes to Patrick, but he does and he croaks in a hoarse whisper, “She was worth it.”

 _You almost died,_ Patrick wants to say, and it’s melodramatic but it’s also not exactly untrue. But when he looks at their tiny daughter sleeping on his mate’s chest, and he sees the way David looks both at him and at their child, he knows that David is right. But still…the only way he’d agree to have any more kids is if he could carry them, which isn’t possible, so. She’s it.

He reaches out and runs a careful hand over his daughter’s little head and smiles when she opens those big eyes (David’s eyes, and doesn’t _that_ melt what remains of Patrick’s heart!) and looks at him as if to say _hello, who are you?_

Patrick doesn’t think of this as a happily ever after. Not when there’s still so much to be done. Over the next few weeks he’ll have to take care of the baby as much as he can, give David a chance to recover, and he’ll have to keep a sharp eye for any postpartum complications or, God forbid, postpartum depression. (And even if that doesn’t develop, he’s _definitely_ going to need to find David a therapist, one who specializes in taking care of traumatized omegas, because. Come _on.)_

But right now all he has to do is hold his mate and his child, and Patrick is more than happy to do just that.


End file.
